Cavalier
by Lali-chan
Summary: Pavel had never told anyone he knew ballet.


Cavalier

Pavel had never told anyone he knew ballet. Mostly because he did not think he knew it.

He had never had the time or dedication to call himself a ballet dancer, at least by Russian standards. When he was younger - before Starfleet - he would stand in for his cousin as she practiced. And so he learned how to pirouette and lift his partner from the ground as if she weight no more than a feather. And she taught him how to move gracefully, making every move a conscious thought, but at the same time making it instinctual so it looked easy, even if it really wasn't.

Soon enough, though, he and his brain were being whisked away to Starfleet Academy and all thoughts of classical music from long-dead Russian composers and ballet shoes were left behind.

He had never had a particular love for ballet. At the time, he had done it to help his cousin as there were very few boys willing to dance ballet at their small town. And she had needed a partner to become better. He had come to appreciate it as he did all things Russian. He had come to take pride in it, even if he wasn't the one doing the dancing. But his passion had always been numbers and physics and most of all the stars. Abandoning ballet for the stars had never been a choice, but an inevitability of life.

The second reason he never told anyone he knew ballet was because it had never seemed as something others would appreciate. He was victim of enough bullying in the academy for being too young, too small and too feminine to know that he shouldn't add ballet to it. But Sulu never told anyone he knew fencing until he needed to show off his skills, so that must be acceptable.

Still, there were nights, at least what passed as nights on a starship in space, when he felt so homesick that even vodka and Russian dead authors couldn't fill the empty space in his heart. Those nights he would pick up old and torn ballet shoes from under his bed and turn up into one of the empty work out rooms. (It was easy enough to program the computer to play Tchaikovsky and to improvise a bar.)

With one hand on the bar he fell easily into old patterns. Doing pliés and elevés on all five positions, lifting his leg and stretching until it didn't hurt. When he was younger and impatient, bar work had always been too boring for his restless mind. Now, it set him at ease, it put the day's work behind him and helped him center and rest his mind, much like he imagined Spock did through meditation.

Finally satisfied with his warm-up, Pavel would take his hand from the bar and let his muscles remember choreography his brain had long forgotten. Pirouettes and arabesques would follow. As did mistakes that would frustrate just as much as they did on the bridge.

But when he stopped, he would feel better. His heart would feel fuller but lighter, as it did whenever he got a message from his mom, as it did when he ate vatrushkas, as it did when Nyota would chat with him for hours in Russian.

This was not to say he was unhappy on the Enterprise. Because he was happy. He was happy to know he was doing something worthwhile, he was happy to be challenged everyday, he was happy to chart uncharted territories, he was happy to be in this place among these people.

It was just that sometimes, as it's usual and normal, he missed his family, and not having to work his way around W's and V's that eluded him, he missed food that wasn't made from a replicator, he missed Earth and non-recycled air, he missed swimming, he missed the feeling of dirt under his bare feet and looking out his window to see houses, people, birds and to have to look up to see the stars. He missed snow and not having room temperature so perfectly regulated. He missed the cold.

One of these days he was bound to be "caught". He was never really secretive, if he chose to dance when most people were asleep it was just a matter of convenience, of having the time off and the empty room. He just hoped he wouldn't be caught by his captain. In fact, if he could pick, he wanted it to be Spock. With the Vulcan, at the most he would get a raise of an eyebrown.

With his captain, he would get a ship announcement.

**A/N:** I did about 4 years of ballet between ages 6-10, so I used most of what I remembered with a healthy dose of Google. I hope I didn't get anything too wrong about Ballet or Russia. Vatrushkas are Russian pastries I've never tasted. Cavalier is the term for a male dancer.

English is not my first language and I've been trying to improve my verb tenses, so please tell me how this one went. Also, you should be warned that this wasn't beta-ed and that I wrote it and posted it right away.

If you enjoyed it, let me know! If you have Pavel-centered fanfics to rec, please let me know!


End file.
